The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-10-29
THE RAVENS MESSAGE.


sunburned woman, who was standing at
the door of log hut on a small, rocky
islet in the middle of the Rhone. Il do
hope nothing has happened to him; he's
terrible venturesome since he got boat
of his own"
aPooh, poohl' answered her husband
NHe'1l come back all right, never fear.
It's only proper that my boy should be
a ferryman like his father, and 30 he must
learn to manage boat. See, yonder he
comes rowing like any boatmanP
"But whatever has he brought with
him?" cried Madame Lenoir, in amaze
ment. What, indeed? At first sight the
sturdy little twelve-year-old, who came
skimming toward them across the broad,
shining stream appeared to be wearing
a huge black overcoat, torn almost in two
But a second glance showed the strange
object to be raven nearly as big as him
self, which hung loosely over his should
ers, as if either dead or badly hurt.
ASee what I've got, motherl' cried he
cleefully. Il found it in the wood yonder
with its wing broken. At first it snapped
at me, and wouldn't let me touch it, but
it's quiet enough now. Isn't it big
one?"
"Oh, you dreadful boyr cried his moth.
er "What do you think we're going to
do with great, ugly thing like that
about the house? And who's going to
feed it, pray?"
"Why, mother, you know you always
say that this house Of ours on the island is
lust like an ark; and Noah had a raven
in his ark that he used to send flying
about, and why shouldn't we. Besides
we can teach him to carrJ messages for
us, like the one that Father Gregoire
told us about the other day."
"Well, there's something in that" said
Jean Lenoir, laughing, "and as for feed
ing, raven can pick up his own living
any day; and besides, we have always
plenty Of odds and ends of fish. Bring
him in, my boy, and we'll see what can
be done with him."
The broken wing soon healed, ana
in a few months Pierre's raven (named
Christopher" in honor the ferrYmsn's
patron saint had become famous through
the whole countryside. Many bright
silver franc did Pierre pick up at the vii
lage fairs by making the bird go through
the tricks which he had taught it; and
when once it had learned to carry mes
sages, the people along the river gave it
so many that the postman used often to
threaten it jokingly with summons be-
fore the magistrate for taking away his
business.
Even Pierre's mother became recon-
ciled to the "great. ugly thing" at last;
more especially as the good priest OF the
parish, Father Gregoire, was very fond
OF it, and never came to see them without
bringing something good m his pocket
for sour friend Christopher"
Sometimes, indeed, as soon as the kind
clergyman's black cassock and broad hat
were seen on the opposite bank, little
Pierre would point and call out, Food,
Christopher And the raven shooting
like an arrow across the river, would
perch on the priests shoulder and thrust
his great black bill into the old mans
pocket in search of the food which he was
always sure to find there.
So matters went till one night In the
early spring, when Jean Lenoir, coming
home tired after hard days work, paus
ed for moment, as he got out OF his
boat, to notice strange, leaden dimness
that overhung the hills along the eastern
sky.
at must be raining hard up in the
mour tarDs," said he to himself, and then
thought no more about 1t.
But at daybreak next morning he was
awakened from DIRE am Of beng at sea
in storm, which seemed strangely real
even after he was broad awake. Doors
were banging, windows rafting, timbers
breaking and grooming, mingled with a
roaring and dashmg as if Niagara had
been let Dose close to his ear. Hardly
knowing what he did, he sprang to the
door and threw 1t open, and instantly
started back as if he had been shot.
The water was within foot OF the
door sill
Worse still, it was plainly rising higher
every moment. The Rhone, swollen by
the heavy rains and the sudden melting
OF the mountain shows, had burst its
banks and come down in full food, driv-
en- by such gale as had not blown in
those parts since the great storm ten years
before. All sorts of things went whirl'
ing past upon the yellow fosm-drowned
sheep, hurdles, beams, boxes, and up
rooted trees, upon one Of which crouched
a poor little shivering dog, wailmg pit
eously for the help that no one could
give.
Jeans first thought was for his boat
but both it and the shed in which it was
moored were gone as if they had never
been. Sick at heart, he climbed up into
the loft after his wife and SOD, just az